Finding Out
by taylorgoesrawr
Summary: The sight awaiting her was a disgruntled John Bender sitting on a tree branch outside her window.


**Hello, readers! So this is my first John/Allison fic and I'm really excited because I've wanted to write about them for a while now and only just got my muse back. Yay! Hope you guys enjoy and please review! I would love to know what you think of it, really. **

**Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I do not own The Breakfast Club or the characters in it. Nor do I own any other creations of the great John Hughes, bless his soul. **

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It was the banging on her bedroom window that woke Allison Reynolds from her dreams that night. The unwelcome noise had started out as mere tapping so as to not cause a scene if her parents were to hear, but as if sensing her reluctance to care, it became louder and evidently more impatient. Beautiful brown eyes, currently void of the black shit that normally accommodates them, finally fluttered open at the ruckus. Allison blinked a couple times to rid her vision of the blurriness that comes from getting jostled from a deep sleep. She thought she was seeing things when she realized that the sight awaiting her was a disgruntled John Bender sitting on a tree branch outside her window that was swaying dangerously in the cold winter wind.

A small _squeak_ rose from her throat as the situation hit her all at once and she jumped up from her bed in a hurry to unlock the window. He pushed it upwards with red tinged hands from the outside and she shivered as the winter air invaded her warm room. She was only wearing an over-sized long sleeved shirt as a form of nightclothes and wrapped her arms around her small frame to keep warm. She vaguely noticed that it was snowing outside in her haste, but John confirmed it when he brought in a good amount on his clothes when he swung in. Little white flakes were strewn across her gray carpet and Allison watched as they melted upon contact with the fluffy material before turning her gaze to watch him shut the window.

She didn't speak, she didn't have to. Instead, she merely watched him peel off his jacket and shirt, dropping them haphazardly next to the vent emitting heat that was situated underneath her window. His jeans were mostly dry so he kept those on along with his socks. As he began to work on getting his boots off, she leaned against her once white wall that was covered from ceiling to floor with magazine articles, pictures of celebrities, paintings, photographs, and other random artifacts. She began to count the scars that lined his back but lost count after twenty-three, suddenly not caring enough to finish the inspection as he turned to face her.

Allison pursed her lips, taking a sweeping look of his toned body and noticing the few fresh nicks across his collarbone along with the bruising across the knuckles in his right hand. She had seem him in much worse shape in the past but that didn't stop the worry from entering her voice and causing her eyebrows to furrow ever-so-slightly. "John.."

"_Allison_."His voice was soft and rough against the silence that had erupted in the small room. While calm, it was a tone of voice that she knew well to be an unspoken warning. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes – she wouldn't say anything, _she never would_.

Instead, she switched tactics and shifted her weight from foot to foot in a small nervous gesture. He made her nervous, _he always did_. "Do you want something to drink? Warm clothes? A first-aid kit perhaps?"

If he had even heard the hint she dropped about getting his cuts cleaned up, he didn't show it. "Yeah, you got anything I can wet my whistle with?" John's voice called quietly back, his footsteps hitting the carpet softly as he left to presumably find the bathroom.

Allison nodded, getting down on her knees and throwing the duvet from her bed up so that she could see in the space underneath it. Her shirt was riding up to show off her colorful lace panties but she didn't care. Sliding a box out from under the bed, Allison opened it and pulled out a bottle of scotch that she'd discretely taken from the liquor cabinet downstairs specifically for when John would make a visit like this.

Her small hands gripped the bottle slightly as she put the box back and fixed her duvet before sitting down on her bed. The alcohol was warm but it was better than nothing, she concluded as she rearranged herself so that she was sitting with her legs crossed.

The first night that John Bender had come to her, she hadn't been home – she had been on a date with her boyfriend, Andy. Instead of leaving though, he had cased her house and found an open basement window that he'd used to gain entry. He hadn't known where her room was at the time but he'd somehow found it on his own, and he'd been sitting on her bed reading a magazine when she'd finally gotten back. Allison had a fit when she had seen all of the damage done to his handsome face and cleaned him up.

Needless to say, it kind of became a ritual for them.

John appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, crossing the room to where was and sat in front of her with his back turned. She gave him the bottle and he took a long swig as she went to work kneading the knots out of his neck.

"Why do you let me do this to you?" His voice cracked the comfortable silence, breaking the carefully constructed scene that they'd gone through many times by now. This was normally so easy and _so completely practiced_ – but not tonight.

Allison froze, mouth parted ever-so-slightly in the loss of something intelligent to say. She licked her lips and took her hands away from his warm body, watching them shake as they landed in her lap from a mixture of her sudden nerves and lack of contact with his skin. "What do you mean?"

The atmosphere changed within a moment. Frustration seemed to almost radiate off of him, his expression changing from one of fatigue to one of annoyance. "C'mon Allison, you're not stupid, you know _exactly_ what I mean."

John's words hit her hard for reasons that she didn't completely understand – maybe it was the tone of voice he used? He turned to look at her when she failed to respond, the harsh look he sported vanishing as he watched the tears fill her eyes. The words he had prepared in anger died on his tongue as he became momentarily dumbfounded. "Allison.."

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes as she got up off the bed to put as much distance between them as possible. He had violated an unspoken agreement between the two – there were no _why's _asked. She liked it that way, she could pretend like nothing was wrong so much easier.

He was quick to follow suit, stopping her with a hand on her upper arm as she tried to retreat into the hallway outside of her bedroom. He spun her around so that she almost collided with his chest and placed a hand behind her head to steady her movements. Nobody moved for a moment, simply staring at the other as if silently debating on who should break the silence.

John bit down on his lower lip momentarily, his hair damp from the snow and hanging in his eyes as he took in her expression. "What is it, Ally-may?"

"It's just that I – we – um." She took in a deep breath, words scrambling on her tongue as she choked back a sob. "I love you."

As much as he wanted to feel surprised at her sudden confession, he wasn't. Silence emitted between them for a moment but even as his thoughts raced around his mind, John realized that he had somehow always known. He had a feeling that was why he had prompted her to tell him.

"I know." He murmured, planting a soft kiss on her forehead gently. It was only for a mere moment but John's whole body felt like it was tingling when his rough lips made contact with her skin. As if trying to hold onto this feeling, he planted a kiss to the soft skin of her neck, drawing out a low groan as he began nipping at it with his teeth.

He was so different from Andy, Allison mused. John had a hardness to him that made her feel safe and his lips were rough like sandpaper but his kisses were surprisingly gentle. Andy on the other hand was soft and his kisses were possessive – Allison never liked feeling like a possession.

"Oh shit, Andy!" These thoughts of her boyfriend were the ones that brought her crashing back to reality. An anxious expression crossed her pretty features as she tried to back up with no results because of the hand he had on the back of her head. "John, what about Andy?"

"He won't find out." He told her without skipping a beat, voice low. Lust radiated in his eyes as he held a hand out to her, the unspoken question that it presented clear to both of them. "I promise."

She reluctantly nodded and took his hand.

No more words were exchanged as John led Allison across the room to the bed.


End file.
